Jacque's Toast

Sparkling snow is no warmer than dulled, freezing air remains pervading the space. Time rushes, because no heat can linger, my blood runs cold, in each and every finger. Its chilly tendrils retracting in protest, feebly stuttering, weakly scrabbling reduced to a quieted wail, Unable to feel even a hammered nail. Pierces through the iced skin surface yet nothing flows out because space is frozen; And nothing moves, the biting cold- Oh, it lines my face, and now I am old. The time has disappeared, and now it is late. The sun still sits, sparkling the snow Bluntly shining, it dulls my green eyes, Space never disappears, while simultaneously time dies.

The train keeps chugging. Unfeeling of the cold, of the ice, of the snow. Headlights sweep and beam, piercing the blinding flurries falling fast, illuminating large swathes of track, not important- because she was following the rail. The snowstorm stopped cars, but would not stop the train. The train keeps chugging .